


Mystrade Mondays

by sanguisuga



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mystrade Mondays, Prompt Fill, do not copy to another site, pre-Mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Various prompt fills and such-like.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Mystrade Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I made a mistake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a piece of the final chapter in a WiP that I've had brewing for a while. So there is a backstory here that I hope to share at some point. The prompt was just too perfect to ignore, especially since I wrote this months and months (and months) ago...
> 
> I hope you enjoy, please do comment!
> 
> ~xo~

Greg pinched at the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head back, his brain pounding with frustration as Sherlock continued to rant at him. He honestly was grateful to have recently taken him on as a consultant, as he got results - and quickly too - but the man himself was such an utter _arse_ that nearly every interaction with him left Greg with a blistering headache. 

He poked Sherlock in the chest with two fingers, neatly cutting him off as his voice dropped away in sheer outrage. “Look. I understand that you like to be the first one to come in and have a little look-see, so you can solve your fun little puzzle. However, _my_ priority is ensuring that the bastards that do this crap get caught and prosecuted. You _must_ follow proper protocol!” Greg paused as a sleek but imposing black car pulled up to the kerb, his brows drawing together in consternation. Last time he had seen one like that was two years ago - the last time he had ever visited that club. But no, there must be loads of cars like that...

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he noted Greg’s distracted air, turning slightly and huffing loudly. _“Mycroft."_

Greg blinked. “Sorry, what?”

But Sherlock was already striding away, ignoring him completely as he stalked toward the car, standing with his arms crossed over his chest as the back door opened. Greg held his breath as the tip of an umbrella tapped against the pavement, followed by the graceful unfolding of long, long legs. 

_Shit._

Cool grey eyes widened ever so slightly in shocked recognition, but then the apparent Mycroft was drawn into conversation with an irate Sherlock, leaving Greg to ponder. He pretended to fiddle with his phone as he eavesdropped on the lowered voices, the squabbling tone all too recognisable as sibling rivalry. Brothers. Oh, wasn’t _that_ just a lark?

Sighing deeply, Greg turned back to the crime scene, plunging his hands into the pockets of his mack as he hunched in on himself. He thought he had gotten over all that nonsense, but of course it had come back to bite him on the arse. Shit like that always did. His cock grumbled soundlessly as remembrances flashed unbidden through his mind, the look of those lips wrapped around him, the feel of that tongue... _Christ._

Clenching his fists tight to keep the blood from pooling in a very inconvenient place, Greg started to shamble back to his purpose for even being here. His steps slowed as he heard the fast clicking of heels behind him, half-turning at a hesitant touch at his shoulder. 

The pale stranger - his Michael - stood before him, nervously twiddling his umbrella in his leather-clad fingers, hectic spots of colour high on his cheekbones. “Detective Inspector - m-might I have a word?”

Greg glanced over at Sherlock, standing in shocked stillness by the idling car, his mouth and eyes both wide and disbelieving. He nodded cautiously, tilting his head toward a nearby alleyway and taking the lead. He leant up against the brickwork, looking up at the grey sky and taking a deep breath in preparation for dealing with yet another blasted Holmes.

“I made a mistake.”

Greg closed his eyes, his stomach roiling uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, we both did. It was a mistake to try to take it further than what we had - it was good, and I fucked it up by trying to make it into something else. I was a fool and you were right to slap me down and even though it hurt I shouldn’t have taken it out on you because you were right-”

“No.” Greg swallowed hard at the low, miserable tone that cut him off. “You misunderstand. Taking you to that hotel room was not the error.” Greg opened his eyes as he felt Mycroft move closer, looking into eyes that were lost and yet sincere. “My mistake was in not letting you kiss me.” Greg shuddered, his brain once again filled with enticing images as Mycroft wet his lips. “I was the fool. I was already - compromised, despite my best efforts.” He hesitated again, the leather of his gloves creaking around the handle of his umbrella. “I - I live in a world of lies and deceit, Detective Inspector, and I...”

“You didn’t trust me.”

Mycroft smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I didn’t trust _myself_. After that first night, it was always you. I should have moved on, found other men to - well. But after... I couldn’t bring myself to pursue relations with anyone other than you. Nobody had ever touched me like you had, not just physically, but mentally - emotionally. I was afraid of what might happen, what it might mean if I let you in even closer.”

Greg’s breath hitched in his chest as he looked into those sincere grey eyes, something in the depths that was desperate and pleading. “Not scared anymore?”

Mycroft huffed out a pained laugh. “Fucking petrified.” His cracked smile straightened out a bit as Greg let out a brief chuckle of his own. “But not willing to let it hold me back. Not anymore.”

Greg considered, slowly raising his hand. “We did this a bit arse-backwards, didn’t we? Hello. I’m Greg Lestrade.”

Sagging slightly, Mycroft quickly shucked off his glove and folded somewhat chilly fingers into Greg’s. “Mycroft Holmes, at your service.”

Greg felt his cheeks warm as he smiled, squeezing Mycroft’s hand gently. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holmes.” His smile grew as he realised that neither one was willing to be the first to let go of the other’s hand. “Dinner?”

Mycroft beamed, his unfettered joy leaving Greg nearly breathless. “Starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications and miscellany from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. My activity there has slowed considerably since the Great Purge, but I also set up another tumblr just for notifications and other writerly stuff at 'sanguisugaao3.tumblr.com'.
> 
> I seem to be mostly active on twitter now, although the system confuses me and I really don't post much. But still, if you'd like to follow, I'm @sanguisugaao3 there!
> 
> (I'm also over on Pillowfort.io if anyone out there is giving them a shot - as 'sanguisuga'. Same handle on Dreamwidth, but I must confess that I don't do much on either site.)


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